


My Little Star

by aobapup



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, but it's ok bc viktors there, implied genderfluid Viktor, shout out for makkachin for making this happen, sleepy cuddling like wooa boy, there's so much fluff SO.MUCH. FLUFF, they should just marry already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aobapup/pseuds/aobapup
Summary: Makkachin wakes up Yuuri in the middle of the night and leads him to Viktor's room...





	

_Skritch skritch…_

Yuuri groggily blinked awake, only registering darkness. Eyes heavy, he pulled his blanket closer to his body, already drifting back to sleep.

_Skritch… skritch skritch…_

He stared at the ceiling, now much more awake. _Ok, that was odd._ He sat up with squinted eyes and scanned his room, only to see that nothing unusual was there. The desk, closet, window, and door were all the same, but he could have _sworn_ he heard somethi-

_Skriiiiitch skritch… skritch skritch skritch…_

 He tensed. A chill crept up his spine as his head slowly turned to the source of the dreadful sound. The door. His heart beat loudly in his ears as he chanted, practically screamed, internally _Please don't be ghosts, please oh PLEASE don't be ghosts!_

Now, Yuuri knew he was a coward when it came to the paranormal, and was gladly about to resort to hiding under the blanket to wait for whatever-entity-was-there to get bored and leave when he heard a new sound...whining? Ok, so whatever it was, it had to be alive, at least for the sake of his own sanity it better be.

He reached for his glasses as adrenaline gave him enough courage to step out of the comforts of his bed, which sounded a hundred times more appealing than dealing with the unknown. Hand hovering next to the door handle, Yuuri took a moment to internally say goodbye to the world like it was his last night on earth, and finally, he slid it open.

A flash of movement caught his eye, then with full force, paws were on him, making Yuuri jolt to keep his balance, and preferably _not_ make a mess on the floor. Relief struck him like the crashing waves of sea as he realized just _what_ he was looking at. Makkachin’s beady black eyes were staring back at him with an enthusiastically wagging tail.

Yuuri huffed, “You scared me half to death! Why aren’t you with Viktor?” Makkachin whined and lifted a begging paw up, and Yuuri couldn't help but smile. “Oh- you need to go outside, don't you?”

Makkachin stood tall in response, and whined as excited paws tapped around the floor. _Bingo._

“Ok, ok, I’ll take you out. Come on let's go!” Makkachin led the way down the halls, looking back every so often to assure that Yuuri was still there following, which of course, he was.

However; Yuuri was not expecting Makkachin to completely bypass the doors to the outside and continue down the hall as if on a dire mission. He even had to pick up the pace to catch up to Makkachin. They took a turn down a new hall and it _clicked._ He was being led to Viktor’s room. Sure enough, Makkachin slowed to a halt in front of Viktor's door, which was slightly agape, and whined.

Yuuri’s mind was heavy with just enough sleep to make the entire situation funny. The ghost that went ‘bump’ in the night was just a locked out dog who wanted to be reunited with their owner. With a soft chuckle, Yuuri slid open the door.

But Makkachin didn't move a muscle.

“Go on.” Yuuri urged under his breath. Hopefully none of this would wake Viktor. Makkachin looked inside as if _considering_ it, but turned back to Yuuri and huffed, which he was sure was dog language for ‘you go in first’.

Yuuri wanted to turn and leave, wanted to return to the security of his room because he was tired, cold and it was who-knows-how-late, but something in the back of mind told him not to. Then, a thought: what if something’s wrong with Viktor? And in a heartbeat Yuuri peered into the room, just to check.

It was dark so it took a few seconds for Yuuri's eyes to adjust, but when they did, his breathe caught in his throat. Viktor lay awake under the covers of his bed, staring at a spot on the ceiling with such intensity it was as as if he wasn’t on earth. Instead he was thousands of miles above the clouds, just a shining star full of festering energy waiting patiently for its time to collapse.

It was such a foreign look on Viktor it felt private, like Yuuri was intruding and should back away now, but he couldn't stop himself from taking a step forward, from being _pulled_ to him, because It was Viktor. Viktor was light and energy, a radiant star that he wanted, oh so desperately, to reach out to, to grasp in a palm and absorb and shudder under its power.

Then Viktor’s eyes were on him, and Yuuri squirmed, realizing how much of a peeping creep he was just standing there. He swallowed hard and should have explained himself, but Viktor was looking at him like _that,_ with narrowed eyes that could pierce right through him. It was every time he skated; when Viktor would lean against the rinks railing and deconstruct Yuuri’s every move-- pulling him apart and putting him back together; looking at _him,_ looking _through_ him. And like a switch, his blood would be fire, buzzing under his skin and surging throughout the entirety of his being until he was at the cusp of bursting. It was no different now. _Viktor was waiting for Yuuri to make his move_.

“Are you ok?” He said it so calm and quiet, as if the silence of the night would get offended if he said it any other way. Viktor’s face softened. Now it was more...familiar.

“Yuuri.” Viktor heaved a breath and Yuuri half expected ‘why are you here’ to follow.

“Just couldn’t get any sleep. Was thinking, is all.”

Viktor shifted, and the new space on the bed was warm and inviting, and Yuuri was daring. Maybe it’s because his mind was still foggy from sleep, or maybe it was the desperateness of Viktor’s voice when he said his name, but Yuuri made a decision.

After checking for Makkachin, who had disappeared from sight, he slid the door closed. The room grew darker, but it was easy enough to navigate to the edge of Viktor’s bed. It dipped beneath him, and the immediate warmth and closeness was enough to drain every drop of self-assurance he had-- made him realize just _how_ his actions could be interpreted. Viktor’s silence didn’t help.

“I- I followed Makkachin and, well, if I’m bothering you-- you can tell me to leave! I can just-”

A comforting hand reached out and rested on Yuuri’s arm. That shut him up quick. He turned and gaped at Viktor’s beautiful glowing smile. Of course, always radiant no matter what hour of the day it was.

“ _Yuuri_.”

Viktor’s hand slid down Yuuri’s arm until their fingers intermingled, like it’s the only place in the world they were meant to be.

“Stay for me, please.”

Yuuri had goosebumps.

The hand pulled, encouraging him closer and Yuuri let him. The bed squeaked softly as they adjusted accordingly, with Viktor lying on his side looking up at Yuuri, who was sitting with his back against the headboard.

“You came to spend the night, no?”

“Well, no. That’s not what I planned on…” Actually, none of this is what Yuuri planned on.

Viktor hummed, followed by a soft ‘we’ll see’, and then relaxed into the pillow. Silence came, but it was welcomed. It was the kind that came with late hours of the night, where the world felt distant and the only universe to exist was that of Viktor’s room. It reminded Yuuri of winters sitting at his window, watching the snow fall from the sky, like it was for him alone.

“Yuuri…”

Yuuri’s eyes flew open, wondering when he even closed them to begin with, and tilted his head just enough to show Viktor he was listening.

“Could you play with my hair?”

_Oh how the universe was as giving, as tempting..._

“Um,” He stammered, breath caught in his throat. When he actually _looked_ at Viktor, he could only see genuine honesty and a hint of something else. Anticipation? Hope? He straightened his back and cleared his throat, “I-yeah…I can do that.”

Truthfully, Yuuri didn’t think he was capable of anything after being asked _that_. All those senses that made him function were gone; deep in water that froze over. _‘Somewhere in these waters lies Katsuki Yuuri’s mind, yet to be salvaged’_ they’d say.

Just when he was about to force himself to _do something,_ to lift a finger--let alone a _hand_ \-- the bed creaked and Viktor was the one to inch closer. Something light brushed Yuuri’s knee, which he realized was a blanket being draped over him. Before he could even say ‘oh’, a warm weight and a messy mop of pale hair was now resting on him. He took it all in: Viktor Nikiforov was lying on his lap.

He was overjoyed, but moreso he was very, _very_ nervous.

So he took a deep breath in; noticed a breeze rattled the window behind him, then out; counted to 4. And when he finally felt _normal,_ he lifted his hand and slid it slowly in hair that was too soft for its own good.

He started with mouse-like touches. Just tiny twirls around fingertips and fingers sifting through with utmost care, as if any tug and tangle was his worst enemy. A strand that covered Viktor’s face was gently tucked behind an ear, and when Viktor’s eyes fluttered shut it did things to Yuuri’s heart, like make his chest expand with warmth and buzz from bliss. Maybe Viktor’s light was contagious, like energy transferred on from one to another, giving him life and enlightening him.

Instincts took over and he grew bolder, letting nails drag against skin. It made Viktor ‘hmm’-- almost whine, in response. Yuuri flushed, decided he _really_ liked that noise, and noted that nails were a definite yes.

Some time must have passed like that because each breath was slow and each thought simple. When Viktor opened his mouth it actually startled Yuuri.

 

“Tell me a secret.”

Yuuri blinked. “A secret?”

“Mmhm.”

He thought of his childhood fears, college, a possession forever lost, the fact he’s never been kissed, even how he’s said goodnight to his posters of Viktor more times than he could count. He _could_ do those but-- he glazed over them. Hand still absentmindedly in hair, he took a deep breath and decided.

“After the last Grand Prix I was in a really bad place. It was probably really obvious how much of a mess I was but, uhh...I-I had several breakdowns and locked myself in my room as much as I could. Even lost motivation for day to day activities and soon gave up on skating.”

Yuuri paused. Months have since then passed, but the emotions were still too fresh. His ground had collided and shook beneath him, the tremors broke him to pieces and left brittle soil in its aftermath.

Only then did Yuuri realize Viktor had lifted an arm and began to trace a finger against his knee. It went round and round like compulsory circles, soft and comforting. It made him smile, ready to continue.

“After letting myself down too many times, I finally ended ties with my coach before my return to Japan. I was even mentally preparing myself to work at the onsen when you showed up. You unintentionally gave me life and a reason to skate again, but I never told you. I know it’s not much of a secret, but I decided to hide it from you. I thought that if you knew, you would think I was weak and clingy and then leave me.”

The finger stopped and Viktor turned his head to look directly up at him. And he froze, eyes looking anywhere _but_ Viktor because-- oh god what if he’s mad at him, but their eyes met anyway, and Viktor was _smiling_ at him, so warm and proud and happy. It made Yuuri want to cry.

“If only you could see what I see in you. You are capable of creating worlds, Yuuri, so please have more faith in yourself.”

He couldn’t help but blush and meekly look away, all concentration focused on the hand still tangled in hair. All of this was so-- intimate. Viktor got the hint and turned his head back to the side with lips still curled and fingers back to actively tracing designs.

“It’s your turn.”

“Hm?”

“It’s your turn to tell a secret.”

Viktor seemed to be in thought for a moment, finger tapping Yuuri’s knee as if it would help speed up the process.

“You know, I don’t think I have one!”  

Yuuri frowned. “That’s not an acceptable response. There has to be _something._ ”

Viktor’s brow furrowed and he went back to tapping. Finally an ‘aha’,

“When I was a child I lied about my favorite color for a few years just to see if people would remember. Not many people did, so I just gave up. A few noticed but didn’t think anything of it. Just assumed it changed like the seasons. It’s funny, that tiny secret made me feel so powerful.”

“So what is your favorite color?”

“It’s red.”                                 

“Hmm.”

And something as small as that made Yuuri feel so giddy within. It was like a gift that was exclusively his.

“Yuuri, tell me another secret.”

“Only if you give one back.”

“But I genuinely can't remember any!”

“Then how about…” Yuuri thought. “How about questions instead?”

Viktor hummed, “I like that, but honest answers only!”

“Ok.” Yuuri agreed, but was scared, because never before has he given himself to another like this. He wore his heart on his sleeves yet pushed others away. It’s what he did.

“I’ll go first.” Viktor spoke with a smile. “Why do you doubt yourself so much?”

Yuuri’s hand in Viktor’s hair halted. He opened his mouth to speak only to close it right after. Finally,

“It just...happens. everyone around me has so much faith in me, yet all I see is how much I can let them down. It’s always been that way.”

Viktor nodded in thought, “It’s easier to let yourself down rather than the ones you love. But all those expectations? They’re all self-created. You’re getting so hung up on the smallest things that you miss the big picture: we’re here to support you.”

We’re here-- _we._

Yuuri was bewildered; how did Viktor always know what to say? He sighed, hands becoming active in hair again as an interesting image occurred; one of Viktor dolled up with colorful bows, creating several stubby ponytails. This led him to form his own question.

“During the Junior World Championship you grew out your hair and wore costumes that suggested both genders, right? Why is that?”

“Oh that? I was really exploring myself then. Had thoughts like ‘why am I expected to appear this way?’ ‘Why must I do this and that?’. I found that gender wasn't as restricted in boundaries as people made it out to be.” Viktor chuckled, “Besides, I'm pretty no matter what gender, yes?”

Yuuri didn't mean to nod, but he did.

And the questions continued, varied, for what must have been an hour-- _What never fails to make you laugh -- What was highschool like?-- Ever skinny dipped?-- Guilty pleasure?-- Phobias?_

And something shifted between them. It was gradual, like being blanketed in a haze that made each breath lighter than the next. A small yawn escaped from Yuuri’s lips. He was too exhausted to feel embarrassed when Viktor nuzzled his cheek into him, he thinks Viktor murmured something-- could feel his breath against his thigh, but his consciousness was fading away; thoughts dwindling down to nothingness. His arm grew heavy, each pet lazier than the next, until finally, his fingers stilled as sleep took over.

 

 

This time when Yuuri awoke, his chest hiccupped. The blanket had pooled to Viktor’s sides which revealed a naked chest. Viktor was reaching for him and leaning in. A hand brushed against Yuuri’s face as his glasses were lifted and plucked off slow, like Viktor had an entire lifetime to do so. He folded them with delicacy and set them aside. Then, Viktor turned back, eyes blinking with a dopey, sleepy smile on his face. And Yuuri watched him, calm and languid. This time it was his turn to wait for Viktor’s move.

“Join me, it’s more comfortable under the covers.”

And Yuuri did just that.

They were close, as in ‘bodies touching in several places’ close. They even shared the same pillow and air like it was natural. It was domestic. Viktor’s hair tickled Yuuri’s brow, causing him to scrunch up his nose and curl his fingers into the blanket. Their feet brushed as an arm slipped around Yuuri’s back. It was warm and safe and oh-so comfortable.

If it was Viktor, he didn’t mind.

He tilted his head up, --ever so gently, to angle it next to Viktor’s own, but he misjudged the distance and their noses bumped. Their eyes met and he flushed, suddenly aware they were mere inches apart, yet neither of them moved.

The arm around Yuuri squeezed, and unhurried fingers, so delicate they tickled, trailed up his spine, explored around shoulders and smoothed against the dip of his back. The motion repeated, and when fingertips met skin, Yuuri _shivered._ The touches danced around his neck, down to his collar bones until they met cloth and lingered there, then returned up his throat until slowing to a halt to trace a thumb against his jaw.

 

And more than anything Yuuri wanted to confirm that this wasn’t a dream, so he reached up and placed his hand over Viktors and squeezed. It was warm. Real. Viktor laughed, breathy and warm against his face. Their foreheads rested together, eyelashes tickling skin. And Viktor turned, hummed sweetly as lips intentionally grazed Yuuri’s cheekbone as he spoke.

“Adorable.”

“Precious.”

“Soft”

Yuuri’s eyes fluttered shut as the touches became kisses on the face with each word. He was absolutely intoxicated.

 _Forehead,_ “Cute.”

 _Eyelid,_ “Incredible.”

 _Nose,_ “Talented.”

Then Viktor pulled away, placed a thumb on Yuuri’s bottom lip, and waited. Yuuri’s eyes opened and he understood immediately. _Viktor was asking for permission_. So his eyes slip shut again, this time tilting his chin with parted lips.

Viktor’s thumb lifted, moments later replaced with a press of something softer. Yuuri’s breathe hitched, right beneath Viktor’s lips, but as soon as they were there, they vanished.

“Loved.”

It was so tender he couldn’t breathe. He clung to Viktor, hands desperate around him-- like his light would be extinguished if he let go-- and Viktor pulled him closer, smiled lazily as their legs slotted together. There’s a vague reminder somewhere in Yuuri’s head that Viktor probably wasn’t wearing any bottoms. Maybe he’d be embarrassed tomorrow, but screw tomorrow- this is _now_. The moment was cosmic. Viktor was _his._

“Sweet dreams, moya malen'kaya zvezda.” Viktor whispered soft into hair.

And they were drifting, being carried by waves as sleep and euphoria fused into one coalesced place.

 

**Author's Note:**

> moya malen'kaya zvezda - my little star
> 
> (What you don't know is that there really was a ghost and it stole Makkachin away....)
> 
> For the first time I finished writing what I started :O and the first thing I've posted since I was 13 :') /see Viktuuri makes me accomplish things/
> 
> Shout out for the song that kept me going while writing. Both the lyrics and mood is so calming and fits perfectly with this fic~  
> Julianna Barwick - One Half


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